


once, first

by apheliosan



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: First Dates, M/M, Sexual Content, Valentine's Day, being keith is suffering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 16:01:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13791168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apheliosan/pseuds/apheliosan
Summary: Keith had never faced anything like this before. Secure fortress infiltrations, sword battles to the death, space blasts in a distant galaxy, and high speed flying through asteroid fields were all things he could handle. But present shopping at the mall? Specifically, romantic gift shopping? Being approached every five minutes by female store clerks batting their lashes at him and asking if he needed help? Planning a date and trying to woo someone? Agonizing. Tortuous.Or: Keith attempts to decipher and conquer the baffling enigma that is a Valentine's Day date.





	once, first

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Sheithlentines to Elen (@elen42564 on twitter/tumblr)!

Some time had passed since he returned to earth, the intergalactic war he had faced beginning to almost feel like a distant memory. There was a time he thought he would never return—not when had always felt he was born to be in the stars, flying through the universe at lightspeed, fighting to prove his worth. He thought about staying. But when he stood in the aftermath of everything with the stars bleeding iridescent and Shiro beside him, hand heavy on his shoulder, Keith thought maybe peace was what he needed after all. What they needed.

Getting used to a quiet life again took longer than he expected. He would forget how to keep track of time and what day it was (what was the order of weekdays again?) or chase an errant mouse out of the house while swinging a sword. It always made Shiro laugh in some way, so maybe it was worth having his space-tuned clock adjusting a little slowly. Even so, Keith knew he was not the only one rehabilitating slowly. Shiro had a certain sharp-edged gleam in his eyes sometimes as he looked off into the distance, but he was getting better. They both were, and each day felt a little more...normal.

“So Valentine’s Day is really soon,” Lance had commented nonchalantly one day—or at least with attempted nonchalance as he indiscreetly side-eyed Keith. The former blue paladin leaned so heavily onto the handle of the shopping cart, Keith half expected it to shoot out from under his weight. He almost wished that it would, if just to see Lance faceplant in the middle of the grocery store.

Not seeing the point of his comment, Keith continued to scrutinize the various apples he was holding. Once he was content no bruises were in sight, he dropped them in a bag and into the cart. Lance had moved from side-eyeing to directly, full-on staring with a single arched brow. He seemed to be waiting for some kind of response. Keith frowned and made an attempt to move on towards the lettuce. “Good for you?”

If anything, in the extent of time that Keith had known him, Lance had absolutely mastered the art of the melodramatic sigh. Keith knew because he heard it a lot. Almost regularly.

“Keith, Keith, _Keith_ ,” Lance exhaled dramatically, placing the back of one hand against his own forehead and the other palm smoothly gripping Keith’s shoulder, pulling him back in place. Somehow he managed to push their grocery cart along with his hip, which had to be some kind of talent. “My emotionally stunted friend, although you’re correct in assuming I have awesome plans, you’re missing the point on your part.”

“I never assume you have a point when you talk,” Keith replied dryly, rolling his shoulder in attempt to escape Lance’s grip. Unfortunately, his friend had also gotten better at not being dodged or ignored, and his light-fingered grip turned into a full palmed, iron clasp. Keith frowned. “Did you need more fruit?”

Lance used all five of his pointy, well-manicured fingers to jab strongly into Keith’s shoulder.

Keith sputtered angrily in response and nearly tripped over the grocery cart in attempt to pull away.

“Sorry, my fault,” Lance apologized dryly without a hint of remorse.  He released Keith’s shoulder in favor of crossing his arms. “I forgot you are incapable of understanding subtleties so I’ll rephrase: what are you planning for Shiro?”

“Like for his birthday?” Keith asked grumpily, rubbing his aching shoulder.

“Oh my god, Keith.”

Keith just barely managed to catch the banana that Lance threw viciously at his face. He quickly returned it to the display as a passing worker shot him a displeased look and a nearby woman glowered disapprovingly in his direction. Leave it to Lance to cause a scene and be the center of attention, the exact opposite of what Keith wanted at any given time. Sometimes he hated being friends with Lance.

“Valentine's Day is the ultimate romantic holiday—the most important day of the year for love and romance. It’s the day of the year you should be showering the person you love with symbols of your devotion,” Lance poetically waxed, as he did so well. He even turned to flash a dazzling, toothy smile at the woman who had previously been glaring at him and winked for emphasis. To his credit, the middle aged woman did flush modestly, looking flattered at the attention and placated from her earlier irritation.

Keith resisted the urge to roll his eyes and attempted to push the shopping cart away before Lance’s attention could return to him. But alas, he was never that lucky. Lance leaned his lanky body forward and easily slid back into his spot balancing his weight on the shopping cart handle, shoving Keith a little to the side as he did so to share the expanse of plastic-covered metal. They shared a short, elbow-to-elbow silence.

“Shiro and I don’t really do that kind of stuff,” finally Keith managed to mumble under his breath. His gaze had shifted off to the side where it attempted to drill into the top orange on the nearby stack, but he could still feel Lance’s cool blue stare fixed on the side of his face. “Celebrate stuff like that, I mean.”

There was another brief silence with dodgy looks and nothing but the sound of squeaking shopping cart wheels rolling by before Lance finally pushed himself upright and breathed another sigh. His head shook lightly from side to side, like the sway of a clock, steady but exuberating an aura of exasperation and pity. As if speaking with an unrefined child, he turned to Keith and started again, slowly.

“Look, Keith. I may not ever understand why an awesome guy like Shiro loves a clueless, awkward gargoyle like you so much—” Keith bristled indignantly at that. “—but I do think you may want to start considering the little things you can give back sometime.”

“Celebrating a cheesy holiday built on consumerism is giving back?” Keith asked with a deadpan expression.

“ _Showing affection back_ , you moron.” Lance finally frowned back at him, his tone had tinges of a rare amount of seriousness. It surprised Keith a little, but he remained modestly silent and unresponsive, letting Lance continue to explain. “I get that you guys are adjusting to things slowly, but don’t you feel like Shiro’s always been trying to make things easier for you? In your relationship, I mean. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out you don’t really do feelings. Not well, anyway. Why don’t you try taking the first step on the relationship field every once in a while? Valentine’s Day is just a convenient time to try.”

Despite what Keith would have claimed on most days, Lance was not a fool. He had moments of bright insights and clarity when Keith felt dimmer, and he was indubitably better at expressing emotions than Keith was. His comment was borderline insulting and Keith did not necessarily agree with everything stated, but even in the strange and almost comical location between aisles of oranges and bananas, Keith could feel some truth of what was spoken and the honesty of it. All in all, he really hated when Lance made a point and even more so when he was right.

Hardly a grunt of acknowledgement was made in response, but tidal shift in mood was evident. The tension then melted away, and Lance resumed his snide, cheeky smirk as he elbowed Keith with a little more force than was necessary. “You may as well put some effort in at least once a year to woo Shiro, the poor guy.”

As much as Keith wanted to make some kind of heated retort, he had no ammo so he reproachfully kept his mouth shut but frowned deep enough to pull his shoulders into a hunch. His posture dissolved into the stance Lance previously held: leaned heavily over the handle of the shopping cart in petulant brooding. It _would_ be a positive gesture, Keith knew, and it would propel them towards the normalcy and balance they sought. Maybe it was worth a shot—if Shiro wanted to try it, of course. Only if he wanted to.

“He seems like a romantic. It’ll make him happy,” Lance supplied confidently, as if reading his mind.

Keith felt like he had just fallen into a self-induced trap.

 

It was not until after Keith had returned all the way home and started brooding over his groceries in the kitchen did he notice the strange and random items Lance had somehow managed to sneak in. Rainbow candied spiders? Pickle-flavored gumballs? _Canned smoked rattlesnake_? What the actual hell? With a look of disgust, Keith dropped the items back into the bag and tossed the entire thing blindly into one of the cabinets. Damn Lance for distracting him at the register with his shameless talk of aphrodisiacs and other things he should “try out.” It had taken all of Keith’s energy and concentration to keep Lance modestly quiet, so of course he hadn’t really been paying attention to the check out and the unimpressed looking store worker.

Nearly the entirety of the trip home was spent deliberating whether or not he was going to go through with it after all, despite all of Lance’s convincing. He did want to make some kind of gesture to Shiro—which made him want to suck up his pride and do it. But at the same time, it was exactly like Lance had said: he didn’t do feelings. Not well. He hadn’t the slightest idea what to do to make an overtly romantic holiday work. If he had to be honest, he didn’t know how to make romantic _anything_ work. Then _that_ thought made him say screw it and _not_ do it. Then again, the whole point was that because he was bad at expressing his feelings, he should try to make the effort so _really_ , he _should_ do it. It was all very confusing and frustrating.

“Those groceries giving you a hard time?”

At the sound of Shiro’s voice, Keith looked up, expression softening immediately. Smiling softly, Shiro had his arms folded and leaned lightly against the wall. His eyes twinkled with amusement like brilliant stars in the night sky. Seeing his smile made Keith immediately forget everything that troubled him.

“Yeah,” he replied in a low mutter, a small smile creeping onto his own lips as he shifted his gaze back down towards the counter. There were still groceries scattered everywhere, sorely neglected from his distracting deliberations. “It’s a real global threat.”

“Is that a request for backup?”

Keith laughed a little as Shiro made his way over to him. Before he could step aside to give Shiro room, he felt two muscular arms sweep past him and grip either side of the counter’s edge, caging him in. Shiro’s warmth pressed up against him from behind, body solid and inviting. He said nothing further, but his body almost reverberated with a silent desire communicated only through the faintest brush of proximity. With an invitation like that, Keith couldn’t refuse. He relented and leaned back against the enticing warmth, relaxed and only tilting his head over slightly to the right as Shiro’s forehead came to rest lightly on his left shoulder.

“Not exactly the kind of backup I was expecting,” Keith remarked smartly, but closing his eyes and smiling for a brief moment despite himself.

“This is the best kind of back-up.” The reply was muffled by Keith’s shoulder. His breath was warm, and the soft strands of his hair tickled Keith’s chin. Vaguely, Keith wondered how long it had been since he had gotten addicted to this feeling of closeness. He couldn’t remember. Good backup indeed.

“You’re home early,” Keith said finally, after several moments of silent content. His eyes opened again and scanned the counter for any more items that needed refrigeration that may have escaped his notice.

“You’re back later than expected.”

Shiro’s arms pulled away from the counter to wrap lightly around Keith’s waist just as the younger man sighed in familiar exasperation. Shiro brought his face up and propped his chin on Keith’s shoulder instead, almost childishly.

“Yeah,” Keith muttered again, rolling his recently purchased fruit together towards the corner of the counter. “I guess I am. Sorry. I, uh, ran into Lance.”

Keith could practically feel Shiro’s grin curling by his neck. “Oh?” Shiro said with a cheery laugh. “So he had another big story to share, I assume? He called me at the start of lunch and talked at me about it for the rest of the hour. I think he said he hasn’t even finished the story yet and booked my next lunch hour tomorrow too. I don’t blame you for not being able to escape.”

His only response with a small snort. Everything with Lance had to be dramatic, including his interactions with people. Lance had indeed spent the first part of his intrusion upon Keith’s shopping trip retelling every detail of some Incident, as he had termed it, involving a sketchy encounter with an older woman of questionable nature. If there was one thing that Shiro and Lance had in common, it was that they had the magnetic force to inexplicably draw in the loving attention of older women. Shiro, Keith could understand, with his polite nature and easy smile. But Lance’s mock-suave banter and devious grins proved just as effective. Just on different types of older women. Probably not the best kind. Like in this particular case.

Since it was something that was brought up earlier in the shopping invasion, Keith didn’t feel particularly bad about agreeing. He had never quite finished his deliberation on the whole Valentine’s Day thing, so he tabled bringing up any talk of it if only to spare himself the embarrassment. Meanwhile, Shiro still had him trapped in a tight embrace, the older man’s chin still tucked over his shoulder to keep him close. Mobility was a lost cause. It was good that he had already put everything that needed to be chilled away. Keith exhaled smoothly again when Shiro pulled him even closer. The groceries would have been left out to melt.

Giving up, Keith settled back into Shiro’s embrace (melting a little himself) and rested his head against the other man’s. “Did you want a shower before dinner?”

Shiro retracted his chin and traced his lips over the delicate expanse of Keith’s neck. His lips hovered, not quite touching, almost like a ghostly distraction for his fingers that were beginning to sneak beneath the hem of Keith’s dark shirt. As if those could be ignored.

“Only if you join me.” He finally pressed his lips down onto Keith’s soft neck.

“We’d never make it out for dinner,” Keith muttered, shifting ever so slightly to give Shiro more access to his neck. Shiro seemed to like that spot for whatever reason. He would regularly bury his face there to smother the delicate skin there with soft kisses and bites, or sometimes just rest there with eyes closed and deep, soothing inhales. This time, his lips kissed firmly, then parted for a gentle graze of his teeth. When Shiro finally shifted away, Keith nearly shuddered at the loss.

The older man didn’t move far, only tilting his head around just far enough to flash doe eyes that Keith swore should be illegal in twenty star systems for bribery capabilities. Shiro had always had expressive eyes, even when he tried to hide it. This time they read playful but devious beneath a facade of innocence, inviting, _tempting_. His white tuft of hair floated like a cloudy wisp over his forehead, tickling Keith’s chin again as it fell. Unfair.

“Are you saying no?”

Keith almost snorted again, as Shiro’s hand not-so-innocently ran further up his shirt and leisurely back down again, despite his attempts at maintaining an angelically soft, wide-eyed expression. _Well_. Keith resigned. It’s not as if he was going to refuse anyway. A small, short laugh escaped his lips, and his back arched to curl into a perfect fit against Shiro’s wide chest. “No,” he finally murmured, “I’m not.”

At that, Shiro’s hand stopped wandering and his gaze became more hooded. His touch felt hotter, like it was searing the silk of Keith’s skin with his fingertips. Lips drew together for a moment, and just as quickly, his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He suddenly looked like a parched man in a desert staring at an oasis.

“What?”

A long pause.

“Nothing,” Shiro finally exhaled, feverish look replaced with bright, honest eyes and a feather-soft smile. Arms tightened around Keith’s waist, holding them close together, as his face disappeared into his favorite hiding spot where Keith’s neck met his shoulder. Keith could still feel the tiny upturn of his lips fluttering just above his shoulder. “I’m just completely infatuated with you.”

It seemed so easy for him to say it—once, twice, a hundred times. When they were alone, he was quick to pull close and deliver caresses. Even when they weren’t, his eyes shone with starlight twinkling with pure and infallible devotion, plainly visible for all to see. When it came to expressing his feelings, Shiro seemed to do it with ease, a casual facility that Keith could only dream of emulating. Maybe, just this once, he should listen to Lance after all.

“Shiro,” Keith mumbled softly, making the other man immediately lift his gaze towards him inquisitively. An age old embarrassment burned in his ears and threatened to tie his tongue. “Do you—” He cleared his throat and shifted his gaze away hastily. “—want to…do Valentine’s Day? Or whatever. With me.”

Keith still refused to look back at Shiro, though he felt the older man move to stand up straighter. They were pressed close enough together that Keith could feel how Shiro had momentarily froze (in shock?) before melting back into his now loose armed hold.

“You actually want to?” he asked, tone sounding pleasantly surprised. There was another brief moment of silence and stillness before Shiro came alive again. His head bobbed and twisted enthusiastically over Keith’s shoulder, attempting to catch a glimpse of Keith’s expression, no doubt.

Needless shame splayed scorched across Keith’s face, as his usual frown tugged lightly at the corner of his lips. It seemed almost ridiculous after all they had been through that he could still feel so much embarrassment just asking Shiro on...on a _date_. But it was a first nonetheless, he attempted to reason. Their first Valentine’s Day. He was probably going to regret this disaster. In fact, he was already regretting it a little now.

“Only if you want to!” Keith finally managed to blurt out forcefully, slamming his eyelids shut like a child willfully admitting he had stolen from the cookie jar. “I know it’s really short notice, and it’s fine if you think it’s ridiculous—”

“No.”

Keith’s eyelids flew open at that, thoughts running a mile a minute. No? Shiro _didn’t_ want to? Was it weird that he felt surprisingly disappointed? When he finally turned, he was met with a radiant smile blooming on Shiro’s face. He sucked in his breath and held it.

“No, I don’t think it’s ridiculous,” Shiro continued after what seemed like an eternity, chuckling a little at Keith’s bewildered expression. Mirth bubbled out of his laugh, and had it not sounded so genuine, Keith would have thought it was teasing him. “Sure. I’d like to ‘do Valentine’s Day.’ With you.”

Relief and tingling warmth spiked through Keith, pushing a soft sigh out of his lips to finally release his bated breath. He could hardly believe he did it in the end. He furthermore _couldn’t believe_ he was actually going through with this. But for the way Shiro was looking at him—humor, flushed amusement, but above all, absolute adoration—Keith knew it would be worth it. Not that it wasn’t still embarrassing as hell. The tips of ears burned hot, and he again cleared his throat and squeezed his eyes shut again as if to hide. Firmly, he declared, “It’s a date then.”

“What did you have in mind?” the older man asked, curious.

Keith cleared his throat. He hadn’t thought that far yet of course, and being asked so suddenly was absolutely nerve-racking. Still, his pride kept him from making any early admission of defeat in front of the only person he had ever wanted to impress. Just as firmly as before, he replied hotly, “It’s a surprise. Just leave everything to me. All you have to do is be there.”

He really hoped he wasn’t digging himself into a hole (though he knew he already had).

“It’s my first time being asked on a date by an intergalactic hero,” Shiro confessed in a manner of modestly overemphasized jest. Suddenly, his hands came back to life and more purposefully snaked up Keith’s chest; they weren’t coming back down this time. His actions were a complete contradiction to the feigned innocence in his tone.

Joke or not, Keith realized the statement Shiro just made was probably true. Dates, romantic gestures—all things he had never been good at, especially not as the initiator. But with all they had been through and everything they will go through, maybe it was time to try. Even if he knew how he felt inside, he would have to figure out a way to get it all out. His breath hitched in distraction when the older man’s fingers lightly grazed over his nipples. He’ll think of something later.

“I’m not a hero.”

“You’re _my_ hero.”

“Shiro, shut up and get in the shower.”

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

It had taken some time, but Shiro eventually converted from being a weary soldier shocked awake at the first hint of sunrise to an oversized, willful child unwilling to release the pillow or Keith’s waist despite the full blast of sunlight through the window. It was a habit change Keith had welcomed wholeheartedly, like they were gradually wearing away the darkness and stress their history had left in them. He, himself, spent most mornings tangled in Shiro’s arms, counting the other man’s even breaths and wishing he didn’t have to leave the warmth that enveloped him. It was not one of those mornings.

He awoke early and attempted to sneak out of bed so awkwardly and unsuccessfully (a sheet had gotten wrapped around his leg) that even Shiro opened his eyes bleakly to laugh sleepily at him as he waged war against the trap of their sheets. Despite Shiro’s enticing beckons to return to the space between his arms, Keith stubbornly refused and stumbled away over their flat sheet which finally relinquished its hold on his legs. He had a mission to attend to now.

_So_ , he thought wildly to himself, fists clenched around the edge of the counter after he successfully escaped into the kitchen. _What am I supposed to do now?_  

The very thing he had dreaded upon the initial suggestion of the date was that he wouldn’t have a clue of what to do. He hadn’t helped himself out at all by suggesting he would take the reigns and handle everything. His twitching intensified with uncomfortable apprehension. Not much had changed from his initial fears despite the confidence he felt when making his bold invitation; he had definitely been right about being directionless. Somehow, he had allowed a moment of tenderness to sweep him out on this journey, and he felt a momentary relapse of distress at getting himself into such a mess.

People regularly claimed that he was "socially awkward," which was actually an assessment Keith didn't _necessarily_ disagree with. Though if he had to label it himself, he likely would have termed it "socially uncomfortable" or “socially avoidant” instead of awkward. Being aloof was a preference. But given his history, he felt fine with working together in a group and being part of a team. He even cared about his friends and teammates a great deal. It was the concept making a large social gesture to express his feelings to someone that made him consider slamming his mental panic button. Even if it was for his soulmate.

So he started with the only thing any other modern person would do when completely and utterly lost: ask the internet. How bad could it possibly be? Feverish thoughts of borderline desperation flooded his mind as he stared down at the tablet device he had snuck in with him. It was just for brainstorming. Pidge spent hours on end scouring the internet for no reason sometimes. It would be fine.

It wasn't.

Initial searching mostly only brought up reminders what calendar date it was—February 14th, very soon, yes, got it, _thank you_ —and the further he delved, it became clear that the holiday was somewhat skewed towards women. According to the internet, he should be looking for flowers, chocolate, and...lingerie? After modifying his search parameters to figure out what he was supposed to do for his _male_ lover, the results turned up even more abysmal. He didn’t claim to know much about creating an atmosphere, but he was guessing steak and a blowjob wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of romance for the holiday. He spent so long balking at the the screen with wide, frustrated eyes that he was unable to form words to greet Shiro when he finally emerged from the bedroom.

The older man looked at him with an amused expression and circled around the kitchen to press a faint kiss against his cheek. Keith lingered just long enough to accept the small motion of affection before twisting away with the tablet held at arm’s length (as far from Shiro as possible) and a choked screech that resembled something akin to _good morning_.

For a long moment, Shiro looked as if he wanted to ask what was going on, but Keith’s pointed stare of desperation worked as a plea for forgiveness. Keith could only whisper silent thanks to the universe for blessing him with sympathy, as Shiro simply smiled and moved towards the front door with cheerful parting words on his lips. Moments later, the door opened and closed quietly, marking the other man’s departure. Shiro was always understanding, even when Keith was sure he didn’t deserve or ask for it. Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply. He really did have to make a good effort this time to express all of the gratitude and affection he felt, as difficult as it was proving to be. Shiro deserved it. The tablet with terrible ideas still displayed on its brightly illuminated shone up at him, as helpful as rocks on a sinking boat.

Keith was drowning. He sighed in frustration, placing the tablet back down on the counter in favor of roughly rubbing the sides of his head with his palms. Maybe it was time for back-up.

His social network wasn’t much to brag about, especially considering he was able to count the number of people he felt comfortable at least semi-regularly speaking to on one hand. Years in space fighting aliens in a war didn’t do much for expanding his friends list on earth, and his aloof personality ensured that it stayed small. All in all, he knew exactly who he _didn’t_ want to call. Read: Lance. All it really came down to was who he could count on to judge him the least.

Before he could change his mind, he slammed his hand down on the tablet at numbly let his fingers navigate through his contact list. Somewhere in the back of his mind, his subconscious was politely informing him this was still a bad idea. He sighed again, a constant recurring mood, and pressed call. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

The call rang on for a solid minute before it finally connected and projected a grumpy looking face on the screen. Messy bundled hair, a deep-set frown, and dark eye circles—more or less exactly how Keith expected night-owl Pidge to look in the morning prior to noon. The long time the call had been left ringing was typical of her, as was her slightly snappy greeting.

"Keith, I hope this is important. I'm on the last leg of this campaign and the boss battle isn't going to wait forever."

Keith's brow furrowed. That was a bit of a surprise. "Why are you gaming in the morning on a weekday?"

"Started last night and marathoned until now," she answered, punctuated with a long yawn.

That was less of a surprise.

"It's a long campaign," she immediately defended herself in a huff when her yawn finally ceased. When Keith looked a little closer, he could tell that her usual dark circles looked just a little darker. Her hair was falling out of place everywhere, like it had been last tightened over 24 hours ago. Realistically, he probably should have been thankful she had answered his call at all.

"I'm not judging," Keith replied. He paused before muttering, "As long as you don't judge me."

"Oh, so it _is_ important." Pidge suddenly looked three times more awake, eyes brightening a little and mischievous grin spreading slowly across her face with intrigue. A stray strand of hair fell across her face as she leaned forward, which she quickly swept away with a swift brush of the back of her palm. Her hair was getting really long, Keith thought absently.

"Hello? Keith?"

For a moment, he reflected on the fact that he had come a long way with his socially uncomfortable disposition. He was now asking a decisively labeled friend for help on engaging further social interaction. What a concept. Pidge was staring at him with wide eyes, chin propped up by her palm and tilting her head ever so slightly to the side. Now or never, Keith thought to himself in resignation.

"I…may have gotten myself in over my head with…something."

There was an extended moment of silence following Keith's vague, unrevealing statement. Several seconds ticked by like crickets in a crowd. The way Pidge's eyes narrowed knowingly and her lips spread into a wicked a grin was almost shaming. " _Oh_ ," she said in a tone indicating she already knew too much. “You mean your Valentine’s date?”

Keith nearly choked. “Why do you know about that already?! I haven’t said anything yet!”

Pidge gave him a fleeting look of pity. Even though her face was only projected digitally, Keith could practically feel it radiating off of her. “Lance told us immediately.” She smiled sheepishly. “What did you expect?”

She had him there. Despite not agreeing to anything in the grocery store, he should have known his other former Paladins would hear about it as soon as Lance had the opportunity. And he should have known that they would know him well enough by now that he wouldn’t say no. Feeling the beginnings of a headache brewing, Keith groaned and rubbed his head vigorously with his hands. Apparently, he had fallen into the deep end before he had even realized. Spite eventually thawed into resignation and he returned his displeased glower back towards the screen. “Fine, whatever. Look, I need help.”

“Okayyy,” she started after a brief pause, dragging out her vowels extensively. “With…?”

“Anything,” Keith breathed, almost desperately. “Give me an idea, a concept, _anything_. What am I supposed to do?”

“Whoa, calm down. You’re acting like you’ve never been on a date before.”

Keith glared at the corner of the screen, trying to keep his eyebrow from twitching.

“...oh my god, you’ve never been on a date before.”

“ _Pidge_.”

“Sorry, sorry,” the girl laughed. “I know, I know. I’m not judging. But I don’t really know what you expect. I mean, are you really asking _me_ of all people for advice on _dating_? It’s not like I’ve got a whole lot more experience than you.”

“It’s not _dating_ advice,” Keith shot back hotly, feeling a slight burn in his cheeks. “Maybe you don’t know much about dating either, but you do know Shiro.” His expression softened, some frustration melting away. It was difficult. He wanted to do something special for Shiro because he deserved it, but it was frustrating when he thought of how limited and powerless he felt to make anything happen. Voice dropping down to almost an almost shameful whisper, he quietly asked, “What do you think he’d like from me?”

There was a lingering stretch of silence, during which Keith was unable to bring himself to to make digital eye contact while he wallowed in his self-made shallow puddle of despair. A small puff of a laugh from Pidge made Keith finally look her way. She was grinning but with genuine compassion, brows knit up and eyes soft.

“I’m pretty sure the gesture alone is enough to make him happy, Keith.”

“Yeah, I know,” Keith sighed back. Shiro had always been the considerate one in the relationship, being completely happy and content with what he could get and never asking for more. Before he could stop himself, he continued his thought aloud, “I just want to do something more for him this time. Something special, I guess. At least just once.”

“Can’t go wrong with a fancy, romantic dinner.”

At the sudden intrusion of a new but familiar voice, Keith’s full attention snapped back to the screen, displaying a sheepishly shrugging Pidge and _Hunk_ leaning far in over her shoulder to shove his face within the camera’s display. “Wow,” he stated dryly, folding his arms in mild irritation. “So much for privacy.”

“First of all, you never said you needed privacy. I would know because I was listening,” Hunk immediately retorted, raising a finger up as he counted. He rolled up another finger to continue. “Second, you can’t raid alone, Keith. You just can’t. You should have expected us to be here, really.”

“... _us_?” Oh no.

“That’s right, buddy!” Lance’s voice came in a singsong tone before his body crashed into Hunk’s side and nearly knocking Pidge out of the frame on the other side. The girl attempted to pull herself back up with a hard but essentially futile push off the counter and back in the other direction. Lance flashed the most self-assured, shit-eating grin Keith had ever seen below eyebrows that prominently wagged up and down. “Knew you’d end up taking my advice. And here were are now, my fine first-time-on-a-date gargoyle friend.”

Keith scowled moodily into the screen and shook it for emphasis. Half of him wanted to slam the end call button immediately, but the other half knew that wouldn’t change anything. He was already humiliated enough—may as well keep it going so it only came down to this one, isolated incident rather than multiple recurrences. Swallowing his displeasure, he released his teeth from the stiff clench he found them in and continued again, “Great. Okay, you win. Now are you going to help me or not? I don’t exactly have a lot of time.”

There were only a few rare instances Keith could think of that Lance look more pleased than he did in that moment. He sighed as his friend crawled unceremoniously across Hunk’s lap and squeezed himself down in the middle, hooking one arm around Pidge’s shoulders and pulling her in until she was trapped, snarling cattishly, in his grasp. The screen shook violently throughout the transition, and Keith was sure he would have a migraine at the end of this exchange—from both the visual imbalance as well as the conversation.

Nearly buzzing with excitement and snide joy like some kind of lunatic, Lance raised a hand to turn about in dramatic flourishes. For further emphasis, he soundly cleared his throat. “Ahem, Dating 101—”

“Romantic dinner sounds good,” Pidge cut in mercilessly in a tone flatter than a tennis court. She had finally elbowed herself out of Lance’s grasp and shoved her palm upward in the general direction of the man’s face in an act of vengeance.

“Yeah,” Hunk supplied, leaning in closer to nearly completely eclipse Lance. Keith could almost swear his eyes sparkled a little as he continued to speak. “It’s classic. A delicious meal by candlelight—what’s more romantic than that? You’d have me in an instant.”

“Hunk is the poster child for the saying ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,’” Pidge commented with a grin.

“Shiro likes food!” Hunk immediately defended. “Who doesn’t?!”

Shiro did, in fact, like food. So that was something.

“Yes, yes, yes, it’s a good idea.” Lance finally squeezed himself back into view, although with great effort. He hung somewhat lopsidedly over Hunk’s shoulder like a towel. Fortunately, his fiery disposition fanned from the fervor of his (possibly) favorite topic helped him disregard his physical misalignment. He continued without missing a beat, “That’s the first part. Set the mood with a romantic dinner.” His pointy, well-manicured index finger lifted to count one. “Follow up with a romantic and thoughtful gift. And chocolate. Very important.” He paused. “Are you taking notes, Keith?”

Keith rolled his eyes and folded his arms. “Scribbling away in my mind,” he assured his friends with a deadpan expression. The entire ordeal was starting to make him a little uncomfortable again, but he tried to bear with it. Sighing, he asked, “What exactly is considered a ‘romantic and thoughtful gift,’ anyway?”

Lance’s eyes glinted mischievously. “Like something you both might get some mileage out of?”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but was immediately silenced by a palm to his face pushing him back out of view, courtesy of Pidge. Her expression resembled the time she discovered she had spent half an hour sitting on gum that had been stuck to the bench in the park. Keith could kind of relate to the sentiment. Sternly, she stated, “Please think of that on your own, and for everyone’s sake not listen to Lance about that aspect in the very least.”

“Ooh,” Hunk suddenly cooed, this time eyes definitely sparkling a little. “You should make the dinner. Then you can be at home when you feed each other, hold hands under the table, and play footsies.”

_What?_ A sentiment he wanted to vocalize, but restrained himself from actually doing lest he offend the people who were trying to help him. Keith frowned, though he definitely felt the beginnings of a steady burn in his cheeks. He felt like a broken record with the number of times he had to say it, but: “We don’t do that stuff.”

“Wow, are you even a couple?” Lance asked unhelpfully with a crooked grin.

Keith felt like he should make a retort at that. He knew Lance was teasing and meant no harm but there was something about the statement that suddenly made him feel ashamed again. It was the same feeling that convinced him to get into this mess, and the same feeling that made him want to succeed. _Couple_ felt like a slightly strange and intimidating term to him, especially since he was so awkward with romance. Shiro was more like...his soulmate, the person who completed him—his _destiny_. After everything, he did want to prove his feelings, even if it was terrifying and difficult. How he felt had never been a question, it was just how to say it out loud.

His silence must have lingered long enough to be worrisome because Pidge finally kicked the other two out of the frame and turned the screen until she was the only one pictured. A few whines sounded in the background as Hunk and Lance protested, but she fended them off with a look that could kill and threats to hack their saved game files. When general silence finally reigned, she looked back to Keith and offered him a small smile.

“Look, it’s going to turn out fine,” she said with confidence. “Hunk will send you some easy recipes, and I’ll order you some candles. Relax, have dinner, and maybe just tell him how you feel. This is Shiro we’re talking about. He once walked into a door frame because he was mesmerized with the way you were drinking water. It was endearing and also a little gross. He’ll love whatever you manage.”

“Don’t forget the chocolate and the gift!” Lance hollered from somewhere off-screen. “It’s a quintessential Valentine’s Day thing!”

Pidge rolled her eyes one more time, but said nothing else. Maybe it really was a quintessential thing, Keith thought mildly. The web had been full of horrible gift ideas, after all.

After quietly thanking his friends, Keith cut the line to the image of Pidge waving with one hand and flashing him a thumbs up with the other. Despite the noise and frustration, he did get what he wanted: advice. The prospect of pulling everything off still felt daunting—he did reduce the amount he cursed himself internally down significantly—but he also felt a strange second wind of energy. This was just another battle, and he was determined to succeed.

It was time for a trip to one of his least favorite places on earth.

 

Even in their relatively quiet town, the mall was never a quiet or calm place normally. The fact that Valentine’s Day loomed ominously just around the corner served only to exacerbate the chaos. If there was any singular truth about him, it was that Keith hated the mall. He could also be easily convinced to admit that he also hated shopping for anything more than essentials. The mall environment was everything that annoyed him wrapped into one moderate-sized, two storey personal hell. Features included, but were not limited to: large crowds of people, women who did that thing in which they stared at him extensively before turning to each other and giggling loudly, clerks who kept asking what he was buying and why, and, of course, suspicious men who weren’t even store workers asking him if he needed assistance trying anything on while simultaneously and unabashedly staring at his ass. But he would bear it this time. For Shiro.

Every window and wall had been plastered with a brilliant scarlet shade of red, accented with grandiose and excessive sparkling pink hearts, roses, and cheesy cringe-worthy slogans like: “ _bear in mind I want you to bee my valentine_ ” over a cartoon bear offering a flower to a bee. It made no sense whatsoever. Keith wasn’t sure how much he would actually be able to _bear_ —great, now he was doing it too—and made it a personal goal to try to be quick about the entire endeavor.

He had spent a long time thinking about what sort of gift he should be giving. Was it supposed to be in a different vein than birthday presents? Storefronts had various suggestions, ranging from flowers and jewelry to, of course, things on the more risque side. He didn’t know how “romantic” it was, but Shiro was fond of sweaters, usually soft and dark ones. They were both used to having a minimal amount of possessions, clothes included, so another sweater seemed like a gift that was perhaps not romantic but at least thoughtful and practical. A few swift visits to some familiar stores rewarded him with a simple but soft black sweater, with a v-neckline and thin strips of accented red trim. Vaguely, he thought to himself that he may have used up his birthday present idea, but that would be a problem for another time.

That just left the chocolate. That at least should be relatively straightforward, he thought to himself albeit somewhat grimly.

The bombardment of red and pinks was a little intimidating. The explosion of color mostly led Keith to beeline towards the stores with the _least_ amount of crimson saturating the exteriors. He wandered into a few stores by chance, most of which ended up with him sliding out in frustration after encountering one of the features of his “why the mall is awful” list. The boutique candy store he eventually found himself wandering into in pure exhaustion was mostly white with the occasional red accented heart. The crowd was thin and store clerks stood at a respectful distance. Breathing a sigh of relief, he slowly paced the length of the brightly lit walls.

He had never had a strong sweet tooth and suddenly felt overwhelmed by the various options. Chocolate came in hundreds of different combinations, who knew? Every crisp white card proudly displayed gold embellished lists of ingredients, each one growing more complex and intricate as he wandered deeper in the store. Other store signs and the little he had read on the web had proudly proclaimed the absolute necessity of choosing the perfect chocolate to signify your feelings, but the complexity of it all just made him feel unsettled. Another detail he felt inept to deal with.

Time ticked by in minutes, and customers came in and left again as Keith stood rooted in his spot, staring down the gold lettering on the white cards that seemed to stare back at him in mockery. Suddenly, the sweet scent of cocoa hit his nostrils like a blast from a hair dryer, and he had to take a short step back to maintain his balance. A small pink tray was held up to his chin and behind it was a short girl with dark hair in a red apron smiling sheepishly at him. “Sample?”

Keith looked at the tray with uncertainty for a long moment of stillness before resigning with a sigh. Shoulders sank down while his arm raised warily. The flat pink porcelain was dotted with many different samples: some with nuts poking through, others with a flourish of caramel or dots with color. He picked up the darkest, most plain-looking piece near the edge. “Thanks.”

“I know you probably didn’t want to be disturbed,” the girl began slowly, lowering the tray. Despite the initial hesitance, she looked sincere and spoke with a small but confident smile. “But I thought if you were having trouble deciding, it might be easier to just pick from some samples.”

“Thanks,” he stated again before sighing quietly. “But I’m not really shopping for myself.”

As much as he usually preferred to be left to his own devices, he had been feeling a little stuck (which seemed to be the theme of the entire ordeal). The chocolate piece he held felt smooth, though it already seemed to be melting slightly from the heat of his fingers. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate chocolate leisurely. Closing his eyes briefly, he placed the sweet in his mouth. Plain dark chocolate. To his surprise, it wasn’t too sweet and melted on his tongue smoothly, leaving a pleasant aftertaste he didn’t think he would enjoy as much as he did.

The expression on his face must have been telling because the girl’s smile brightened a little and she spoke with more determination. “If you don’t mind me saying, sometimes it might be easier just to go with your gut choice instead of thinking too much. Your first instinct is usually the best!”

There was truth in what she said, and if anyone knew, it was Keith. Much of his history with Shiro had been built upon instinct. The first tiny tendrils of their friendship at the Garrison bloomed and flourished because Shiro had seen something in him that no one else quite did. Keith searched the universe in every depth looking for Shiro when everyone else believed he was gone because the persistent scream in his soul never relented, as if it knew its other half still burned somewhere. His unbridled guts made him first catch Shiro by the elbow and embrace him feverishly at the end of the war when the universe fell around them. His instinct made him fervently kiss back when Shiro kissed him shortly after.

“Valentine’s Day?” the girl guessed with an understanding look.

“Yeah,” Keith breathed. “The first.”

Instinct maybe was the best way in this case. It had led him to the simple dark chocolate, like the way he did feel, the more he considered it. Not as overpoweringly sweet nor as embellished or filled as some others, but solid and straightforward. It was honest even without fanfare or flashy descriptions. It was perfect. For the first time since he started the whole venture, he felt like he was making a good—no, the _right_ choice. Resolutely, he pulled a red box of plain dark chocolate off the shelf and gazed down placidly at the small red ribbon tied around its corner.

The girl’s expression turned gentle and shone with genuine tenderness. Her smile was fond as she commented, “With all the thought and effort you’re putting in and the way you look now, it’s clear that you really love this person.”

_Love_.

Keith smiled softly.

“Yeah, I do.”

* * *

When the day finally arrived, faster than expected, Keith was fairly certain he was ten times more awkward than usual escaping bed in the morning and moving around their small living space. His entire body felt stiff with nerves like he was a board with limbs on hinges. But as usual, Shiro simply grinned at him in amusement and attempted a kiss with his arms wrapped around Keith’s waist before he left. He still liked to work—not that he had to, but it kept him focused and busy. Keith always thought the normalcy would be good for both of them, although it wasn’t quite as exciting as being Defenders of the Universe. Before Shiro’s kiss could connect, Keith pulled back a little and cleared his throat, looking away coyly.

“See you tonight,” he murmured, almost shyly. Swallowing the anxiety he felt about it all, he looked up again. “Everything will be perfect. Uh, I hope.”

He really did hope so.

Shiro’s eyes brightened immediately, brimming with child-like excitement and pure euphoria. His hold on Keith’s waist tightened to the point where it almost made the smaller man gasp. Small, breathless but exhilarated laughter sounded, filling Keith’s heart. His pulse quickened a beat and his face felt flush feverishly as Shiro nuzzled his cheek.

“I can’t wait,” Shiro laughed, lips close to the shell of Keith’s ear.

With Shiro’s arms tight and warm encircled around his waist and his brilliant smile pressed into his hair, Keith felt sparks of joy igniting like tiny fireworks. In all their time together, they weren’t short of happy moments despite all the heartache and hardships. This moment, Keith thought dizzily, free of turmoil and promising more happiness to come, could probably rank close to the top—and the day had only begun. He only hoped the evening itself felt just as good. For now at least, he whispered a silent prayer for everything to work out.

 

Things started out smoothly—so far. Keith tried not to think about the fact that he had barely even gotten started yet. “Start” mostly consisted of cleaning their house and throwing laundry into their dutiful washer. As promised, Pidge’s candle order arrived somewhat early in the afternoon, though Keith was puzzled as to why she thought he needed _three full cases_ totalling over four dozen candles. He was under the impression he needed one, maybe two, to accent the table. What did she expect him to do with that many candles? Was there some kind of sacrificial ritual he was supposed to use them for? _That_ , he thought decidedly with a strong head shake, for sure was the furthest thing from romantic he could possibly get.

When the doorbell rang again, Hunk appeared in the frame, bags of groceries in his arms and offering a small wave of his fingers. “Hey,” he greeted casually. “I brought you instructions and ingredients.”

With a sheepish but grateful smile, Keith swung door open wide to let his friend in. “Thanks for the assist.”

Hunk’s mouth opened as he motioned to move in, but the voice that sounded was decidedly _not_ his.

“You’re welcome, Keithy-Cat!”

Keith was unsure what disturbed him more: the singsong manner in which the line was delivered, the absolutely ridiculous use of his name, or the fact that for some unfathomable reason, Hunk thought it would be helpful to bring _Lance_ over in the final hour. Still, his two friends wandered in past him undeterred, beelining for the kitchen while chattering leisurely like they weren’t concerned about the potential calamity they were inviting. Keith took a deep breath, repeating a silent mantra to urge himself to keep an open mind.

His feet stomped a little as he marched into the kitch to rejoin Hunk, who was diligently unbagging groceries. Lance had disappeared somewhere, leaving Keith to freely flash Hunk the most pitiful look he could manage. A single hand fell over the larger man’s forearm, making him look up questioningly. Brows knitted up, Keith asked mournfully, “Why this betrayal?”

Hunk looked at him for a moment before laughing with a snort. “You know, you can be just as dramatic as him sometimes.”

Keith flashed him a look of tragedy, to which Hunk responded with merely a dismissive wave of his hand. “Don’t worry about Lance. He really does want to help. He won’t mess things up for you. Now man up and get cooking.”

Hunk promised to linger only to assist with cooking, leaving most of the work to Keith. The recipes and ingredients he brought for Keith were not too complex, but Keith kept getting the feeling he spent more time cutting and chopping than anything else. His suspicions must have been apparent, because Hunk flashed him a smile and thumbs up. “Hey,” he started with a grin, “even in cooking, you have to show off your best skill. It’s one of the things I considered when picking out your recipes.”

The amount of thought and consideration Hunk put into this favor made Keith feel touched and subsequently a little embarrassed. His cheeks flushed just a little as he rapidly chopped through the last of his vegetable pile. Maybe it had been a blessing in disguise when all his friends invaded his call for help.

Most of the cooking finished with with Keith contently listening to Hunk cheerfully discuss his discoveries through the latest episode of some cooking show while occasionally derailing into fevered rants on impractical engineering. When the last ingredients for his soup were finally dropped into the pot and set to simmer for the next hour, Lance made his presence known again after a long marathon of silence. The former blue paladin slunk into the kitchen and leaned heavily against the counter, glass of water in hand (when did he get that?).

“So,” Lance began, as he did so often, casting Keith a sweeping side glance. His gaze drifted leisurely from the side of Keith’s face, down the length of his body, and back to his friend’s face again, which morphed into a pointed frown. Unfazed, Lance asked directly without beating around the bush, “What are you planning on wearing?”

Keith’s frown deepened as he stepped away from the pot, folding his arms defensively. He didn’t know where the conversation was heading or what Lance had in mind, but he already knew he wouldn’t like it. As for the question at hand, he supposed he hadn’t thought that much about it if he had to be honest. But he would be damned before he admitted that to Lance.

“This?” he replied gruffly, jestering down to his standard dark colored shirt and pants combo. “...I guess?”

The look Lance gave him could only be described as tragic and scandalized. He even threw a single hand over his heart, fingers splayed, in an extreme gesture of pity. “I was right to come,” he said solemnly, placing his free hand on Keith’s shoulder heavily. “Fortunately for you, I already picked out an outfit for you.”

So that’s what he was doing the whole time.

“What’s wrong with what I have on?!” Keith demanded, feeling a familiar burn in his cheeks.

“You can’t wear that. You’re completely soaked.”

“Wha—?”

Before Keith could finish his thought, Lance stepped back and threw his entire glass of water into Keith’s face, sending a full cascading waterfall down his chest and legs. All Keith could manage at the sudden assault was a wet sputter and a wild look of complete and utter shock. His bangs and clothes dripped water down into a shallow puddle into the tile of the kitchen floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hunk cautiously sidestep out of the kitchen and tiptoe towards the door in full retreat.

“You’ll thank me later,” Lance told him sagely, replacing the now empty glass on the counter and patting his friend’s shoulder with confidence like he had just done the work of god. Taking advantage of Keith’s lingering shock, Lance immediately turned on his heel and jogged after Hunk. His parting words was a yell over his shoulders: “Hit the showers and get dressed for your date, stud!”

It was probably both the worst and also strangely nicest thing Lance had ever said to him, but Keith lingered in his stunned state too long for it actually register. The slam of his front door signalling his friends’ escape finally shook him from his stupor. Pure concentration was the only thing keeping him running after them and punching Lance in his face. His rage subsided as the moment passed, replaced with a low thrumming frustration and resignation. Lance was annoyingly good at not giving him a choice of taking his advice. Defeated, he cast a short glance at the stove to make sure the burners were all set to low before retreating to the bedroom for a shower. Leave it to evil mastermind Lance to ensure that he would have to shower by using the most frigid water possible in his devious scheme.

He tried kept his shower short, keeping the stove in mind. As he wrapped a towel around his waist, he dreadfully wondered what sort of catastrophe of an outfit Lance could have left for him. Assuming it was his own clothes, he at least felt relief knowing that Lance had a limited choice since most of his clothes had been thrown in the washing machine. Half of him wanted to linger in the bathroom before meeting his doom, but the other half forced him to resign himself sooner and propelled him into bedroom.

If he could imagine an outfit choice based on what he knew about his friend, he would have guessed either something excessively tight or excessively loose. There was no in between. But as he cautiously approached his bed, he saw nothing but a plain black pair of boxer-briefs from his cabinet. _Okay?_ It was weird and a little annoying that Lance had gone to the extent of separating and hiding the rest of his outfit, which he had supposedly spent all that time working on putting together.

Grumbling, Keith stomped over to his closet and threw the doors open. It was...empty? Keith felt stunned yet again, staring into the bare closet in confusion. True, he had been doing laundry, but he definitely did not recall putting _all_ of his clothes in. And all of _Shiro’s_ for that matter. It was weird.

Suspicious, he moved to the nearest dresser to peek inside. Also empty. Increasingly nervous, he dashed across the house to check his washing machine.

Oh no.

Lance wasn’t being cheeky and hiding his designated outfit around the room. The boxer-briefs alone _was_ his outfit of choice. And if once again forcing his hand, he had sabotaged the rest of Keith’s clothes by dumping everything into the washing machine. As he peered in miserably, he saw the remainder of his clothes jam packed into the washing machine, floating in a puddle of water. His clothes from earlier was also still wet. Great.

_But wait_ , he thought to himself, rebounding immediately. The answer was simple: he could put everything in the dryer immediately and something could be dry by the time Shiro returned. Of course. He threw open the washing machine and quickly threw as many wet clothes into the dryer as possible. It was a tight fit, but he was able to shove nearly all of the load in. His finger dropped down firmly on the start button, bringing the machine to life. Finally, sweet, sweet triumphant damage control.

The machine’s life was immediately cut short as the lights suddenly shut down, leaving him in complete darkness and the sputtering sound of the drying machine powering back down. Keith felt a tendril of irritation creep back in. It was an annoying and strangely opportune moment to have a full blackout, but being space soldiers had left them paranoid enough about power to have a small backup generator. He just had to get to it. He stood up, towel nearly sliding off his hips.

They had lived in the same place long enough for Keith to make it back through his living room in the dark with minimal collateral damage. The small backup generator was in their bedroom, though they had rarely used it much before. It was one of multiple precautions their experiences kept them from giving up, and convenient in times like so. But despite all their caution, Keith found the high-tech generator frustratingly useless—almost as if it had been tampered with. His suspicion flared again as he dove across the bed for the tablet projector to speed-dial Pidge.

Once again, she answered at her leisure, though she looked significantly less busy and ten times more pleased with herself.

“Keith?” she asked innocently. “It’s so dark.”

“ _Pidge_ ,” Keith choked out through gritted teeth. “Did you cut my power?”

Her green eyes flared in shock faker than Lance’s dating profile. “Oh no!” She was a terrible actor. “Did you lose power? Good thing I ordered you all those candles.”

So that was why he needed three full crates of candles.

Mimicking his earlier theatric of dramatized betrayal, Keith stared at her with tragically wide eyes. “ _Why_?”

Back on the screen, Pidge smiled good naturedly and gave a little wave. “You’d better set those up before Shiro gets home.”

Keith let out a defeated sigh. He took back all the warm, fuzzy thoughts of friendship he had earlier. They definitely had their own agendas.

“And Keith?”

“What?” he sighed.

“Please don’t ever call me when you’re naked ever again,” she said cheerfully, flashing him a thumbs up. “Enjoy your date!”

The line cut immediately afterward, leaving Keith in complete darkness again with only his embarrassment to warm him. He didn’t know if it was a collaboration or independent actions that just happened to work out, but his friends had somehow managed to create a perfect scenario to trap him in darkness with only a single pair of boxer-briefs and less than an hour before Shiro returned.

_Less than an hour_.

Jumping into action, he threw aside his towel and pulled on the boxer-briefs before scrambling out into the living room to set-up and light candles. He cut the boxes open in record time and lit them just as quickly. As the living room slowly began to illuminate with soft candlelight, he vaguely wondered to himself how horrible a fire hazard he was creating.

By some miracle, he managed to light enough candles from the kitchen to the living room to the bedroom to create a soft orange glow licking up the walls. He knew there wasn’t much time before Shiro returned. Lighting controlled and food set to warm on the stove (the gas was left on, thank god), he paced awkwardly and anxiously around the living room, trying to think of anything else he might be missing. The chocolate box laid on the kitchen counter beside a trio of candles, and next to it the sweater Keith had bought as a gift. For a long moment, he stared the sweater down.

It was a gift. It was _the_ gift. But it was also the only dry piece of clothing in their dark, powerless house and Keith felt awkward and ashamed starting their first date in nothing but boxer-briefs. Slowly and hesitantly, he reached for the sweater, fingers brushing over the soft fabric. He sighed in resignation and pulled it off the counter to slide over his head. _Sorry, Shiro_ , he thought glumly. He would have to receive it after one use.

That was how he found himself shuffling towards the front door in a dimly lit hallway in nothing but boxer-briefs and a sweater much too large for him, hanging over his fingertips and threatening to slide down his shoulder. All the initial nervousness and uncertainty bled back into him, making him almost dread facing Shiro. So much for the perfect first date.

There was an uncharacteristic knock on the door, snapping Keith out of his morose reverie. It was now or never; he had to just make the best of it. Swallowing his pride, he reached out to pull the door open while loudly declaring, “You can still let yourself in, you know—”

The moment the door swung open, his vision was flooded with a sea of red roses in a bouquet so large it took even both of Shiro’s arms to contain them all. Their scent was delicate yet permeating, filling the hallway with with their sweet perfume. Above the crimson buds was Shiro’s dark eyes. Keith was used to the way they would crinkle a little with his smile but this time his eyes were serious and piercing. His pupils were dark and wide, whether from the dim lighting or already reflecting the intensity of his feelings, Keith was unsure. All he could do was stare back helplessly, words dying on his lips.

“These are for you,” Shiro said smoothly, steadily holding Keith’s line of sight with a well of devotion. At that, piercing gaze finally folded back into a soft smile as he pushed the enormous bouquet into the smaller man’s arms. “They’re your color.”

The flowers took up all the space in his arms and was large enough to nearly completely eclipse his chest. Though the gesture seemed almost silly (due to the size of the bouquet more than anything else), the novelty of it made Keith feel uncharacteristically bashful. To hide the reddening of his cheeks, he closed his eyes and pushed his nose into the armful of buds and inhaled deeply. Beautiful.

“Everything in this holiday is ‘my color.’”

“Maybe you were meant to celebrate it then,” Shiro suggested humorously, the solemnity of his initial arrival melting into his usual mirthful banter. Keith could feel his soft gaze resting on the top of his head. He could always tell when Shiro was watching him; it made him feel warmer and endlessly loved. “May I come in?”

_Endgame,_ Keith reminded himself, willing himself to be brave. He stepped back and began retreating down the dim hallway, only to stop after two steps to the shocking sound of Shiro stumbling into the wall. Alarmed, he whipped back aground to see the older man crumpled against the wall for support. Extra widened eyes were fixed down on him, and he had one arm clutching his heart like he had just had gone into cardiac arrest. “S-Shiro?!”

It took an extra long moment of silence for Shiro to regain the ability to speak (or rather, sputter), let alone pull himself back up into a standing position. He cleared his throat twice and used both arms to smooth out the non-existent wrinkles on his shirt in a poorly disguised distraction. Even in the soft yellow lighting, Keith could make out a slight red tinge staining Shiro’s cheeks. It was endearing and actually reassuring to know he wasn’t the only one nervous and embarrassed about their date—their first _real_ date.

“Y-You look amazing,” Shiro finally managed to choke out. His eyes diverted in obvious embarrassment, but every once in a while drifted wayward back down to Keith’s collarbone and then legs. His face blazed a brilliant shade of red when he caught himself, and he brought a palm up to cover his face in shame. “Your legs. Um. Wow.”

Keith stared at him wide-eyed for a breaking into a soft chuckle. “Shiro, what the hell,” he laughed. “You’ve seen me naked before.”

“W-Well, this is different,” Shiro stammered in his own defense. “This is your date outfit. Of course it makes me...nervous.”

Nervous? Keith cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow, making the collar of the sweater shift toward the side of his exposed neck. When he looked closely, he noticed that Shiro was in a different outfit than what he had left with in the morning. Even though Keith had told him not to worry about anything, it was still clearly on his mind to the point where he consciously picked out something different and more atmospheric to wear. Internally, Keith grudgingly issued Lance a thank you he would likely never state aloud.

“Oh,” Keith breathed, suddenly remembering. He did his best to shift the large bouquet of roses into one arm to show as much of the sweater as possible. Sheepishly he extended his arm to show the sleeve. “I’m sorry. This was my gift to you but I guess I had to wear it first.”

In one smooth motion, Shiro closed the space between them, sandwiching the flowers between their chests. One hand feather touched up the length of Keith’s torso to the low dip of the collar. Fingers traced the delicate red trim there before drifting down the long length of the sleeve. His gaze grew intense again though his lips remained turned up at the edges. He leaned forward until their foreheads touched lightly before whispering softly, “This is the perfect mode of delivery. Thank you.”

Keith’s eyes fluttered shut at the proximity. Even with the massive bouquet of roses between them, Shiro managed to press close, the expanse of their touch dropping lower from their foreheads to the tips of their noses and finally, the faintest ghosting of their lips mere fractions apart. They lingered there, trapped in each other’s space, fingers slowly lacing around each other’s over the hem of the sweater’s sleeve. When Shiro finally shifted, Keith expected warm lips pressed against his in a soft kiss that Shiro so loved to give, but instead the older man nudged forward until his lips curled upward by his ear. They spoke in a low, suggestive whisper, “Can I unwrap my present?”

Shiro may have claimed his nervousness, but his bold words and actions made Keith think otherwise. _Yes_ , he wanted to answer, dropping everything shoving Shiro down right there in the hallway—but that was sinking down to the steak and blowjob level of date he had so haughtily frowned upon not too long ago. Only in his case it was more of a sweater and blowjob thing. But no, he would not sink to that level.

“Later,” he compromised, ever so slightly pulling away to lead Shiro down the hallway. “At least have dinner first.”

Shadows danced along the walls with the flickers of the candles, and the only way Keith could describe the expression on Shiro’s face when he walked into the faint glow was _wonder_. In the darkness, Keith had haphazardly set up candles around the room with no particular set-up in mind. It made for asymmetrical illumination accented everywhere. Keith wanted to apologize but Shiro still looked around like he was gazing out at the Milky Way for the first time.

“...do you like it?” Keith asked uncertainly, nervously tugging on the hem of the sweater.

When Shiro finally turned back to look at him, his expression spoke volumes. His expressive eyes reflected the flickering flames and radiated the heat of his own affection. He looked like he he was looking at his entire universe and everything he had ever wanted. Maybe he was. Keith inhaled, feeling floored.

“Yes,” Shiro answered, gaze unwavering from Keith’s. “Everything is perfect.”

Keith knew he meant it. Even though everything was disordered and fell together through chaos, Shiro meant it. Relief bled into him in the form of a smile, releasing the tension he held in its place. Within it all, he had a moment in which the awe of it all started to sink it. Things were working out. _The date was actually going well_.

Shiro caught him off guard with their first kiss of the evening. His lips are soft in their touch but urgent with their press. His arms wrap possessively around Keith’s waist to pull him in until their chests collided together with their lips as a hinge. The force of it was nearly enough to make Keith drop the flowers (reflexes saved them). Shiro always put his all into everything he did and kissing was no exception. Keith felt his own lips fall pliant between Shiro’s, swelling beneath the strength of his affections.

The world was spinning when Shiro finally pulled back to let air back into his lungs. Keith stared ahead in a daze as the older man beamed at him.

“Thanks for the meal,” he laughed. Like he hadn’t just made the lamest, most cliched joke ever.

Keith’s eyes rolled heavenward, but he smiled in spite of himself. He regained his grip on the flowers and used them to push away. “Lame.”

Shiro followed with his token widened eyes of innocence. “But cute?”

“...sure.”

Dinner was spent mostly watching the spectrum of Shiro’s expressions. The bouquet of roses sat a short distance away, taking up the entire sink. Keith ate slowly for once, just watching the small changes in Shiro’s face when he spoke or the way his eyes shone with different emotions. In the past, he was more serious, playing the role of the dutiful leader. Though he never hid much from Keith even in the past, he looked more relaxed and at ease now, laughing and joking about lining up every piece of lettuce to inspect the length of their cut. Keith liked it.

“You’re really getting good at cooking,” Shiro complimented. He was paying the compliment but he looked just as pleased and proud as if he had been praised himself.

“Thanks, I’ve been practicing,” Keith snarked back with a lopsided grin. “My roommate set a frozen pizza on fire once.”

Shiro made a mock gasp. “Horrible. But in said roommate’s defense, the pizza box said nothing about taking the pizza out of the box first.”

“He also tends to overcook everything just a little bit.”

“Maybe he’s just doing it to save you from poison. Cooking it all out. It’s the only way.”

Keith laughed a little. “How sweet.”

“Sounds like he loves you a lot,” Shiro stated candidly, though his smile and eyes were mischievous.

He did. Through all of the joking and playing, that fact remained absolutely true. Keith never had any doubts about how Shiro felt about him. He only hoped that this evening would help to at least begin to express how he felt about Shiro as well.

“What’s that?”

The question came suddenly, and Keith was caught off-guard.

“What?”

Shiro pointed at the counter to where the small red box of chocolate sat beneath the dripping wax of the candles.

Wait.

Gears grinded slowly in his mind until he finally realized what was wrong with that picture. Chocolate. Under a bunch of candles. _Melting_. Oh no.

Keith cursed once under his breath and scrambled away from the table and over to the counter to assess the damage. The top of the box was ominously warm; never a good sign. Shiro snuck up and peered over his shoulder from behind just as he untied the red ribbon in the corner. He could already feel the preemptive dread send chills up and down his spine.

The chocolate still held their shape, mostly. They had originally been shaped into sharp-edged flowers. Now, they looked rounder and shimmered a little from the warmth. Before Keith could do it himself, Shiro extended a finger to touch them experimentally. The chocolate flower melted immediately under his touch, giving way to the heat of his fingertips. Keith groaned in frustration. How could he have been so careless?

“I’m sorry,” he apologized in exasperation as Shiro gave his finger an experimental lick. “Obviously, this wasn’t part of the plan.”

“Dark chocolate,” Shiro identified with the tip of his finger still in his mouth. He smiled. “My favorite.”

_Wow, talk about a lucky pick_ , Keith thought dizzily to himself.

Shiro picked up another piece solemnly. “It’d be a shame to let it go to waste.”

Keith sighed. “I can put it in the refridg—”

Shiro interrupted him by suddenly wrapping one arm around his slim waist and pulling back until their bodies slammed together. His lips dropped to his favorite spot at the crook of Keith’s neck by the porcelain connection of his collarbone, where the sweater that was just a little too large perfectly exposed. His breath was hot against Keith’s skin as he murmured, “I can think of a better use.”

The chocolate fit against his neck perfectly. Tracks were left as they melted away nearly as soon as they were placed. Shiro dove in with the fervor of a starved man, licking tenderly at the soft skin painted with streaks of chocolate. Small bites replaced his kisses every so often, making Keith gasp in surprise. He put his hands down on the edge of the counter to brace himself better against Shiro and tilted his head to the side to better expose his neck.

Shiro was gentle and careful with his ministrations, thoughtfully cautious of the red hemmed collar of the sweater dipping down nearby. His strong armed hold demonstrated his need instead, trapping Keith close against him. Keith felt his skin burn and a heat curl in his stomach like a pool of lava. He always loved the feeling of Shiro crushed against him, like they were meant to be one. Arms only relented their grip on his waist to let bold fingers slide under the veil of the sweater. Keith sighed into Shiro’s touch, the warm expanse of his hands smoothing over over Keith’s chest with every rise and fall of his labored breathing.

In one swift motion, the sweater was pulled over his head and pooled in a soft puddle on the counter. Keith barely had any time to lament the loss of warmth as Shiro spun him around in the same motion to return him to his embrace and attack his neck again. Keith could feel the cascade of small bites from his neck over his shoulder, knowing that there would be a series of soft red spots peppering his skin there later.

“Delicious,” Shiro murmured, his lips curling into a smile. “The chocolate, I mean.”

“Just the chocolate?” Keith asked. He smirked.

The look that Shiro returned him was hooded and heavy with desire. His dark eyes shone brilliantly under the soft flicker of candlelight. Much of his playfulness had been replaced with a thick veil of unabashed lust. “I think I’ll have to get another taste of you just to be sure.”

Keith let himself be pulled back to their darkened room. There were few candles there, just faint enough to cast an ephemeral glow. Shiro laid him down with gentleness, hands stroking and cupping his cheeks lovingly. He sank down on top and caged Keith in between his arms to bring their foreheads close again, never breaking their gaze. Keith surged up to kiss him, and it was all the encouragement Shiro needed.

He came to life with a sound that was almost primal, licking at the corner of Keith’s mouth before letting his tongue dive between the plush of the lips there. Keith felt the familiar blaze of want coiling in his groin and lifted his arms to wrap tightly around Shiro’s neck to keep him trapped close. His breath ran ragged when Shiro finally pulled back a little, and he inhaled deeply, drunk off euphoria. “So,” he breathed, “How do I rank? Compared to the chocolate.”

Shiro had the mysterious ability to shift his expression from hardened to soft in the blink of an eye. In that moment, he laughed, broken from his spell. His fingers traced across Keith’s forehead to push a few dark locks away from his eyes. Expressive eyes had already given Keith his answer, but still he spoke. “You’re perfect.”

The next kiss they shared was tender and slow, hands cupped softly around each other’s cheeks. Keith had forgotten when he closed his eyes but only opened them again when he felt Shiro’s lips straying from his lips to trace the curve of his chin, drifting down to lay feather-soft kisses on his throat, and nuzzing down his chest. Every touch spoke of worship and devotion. Fingers splayed against his hips, occasionally taking a exploratory dip beneath the elastic of his waistband. When Shiro’s hands halted in their track, Keith craned his neck to look down, finding Shiro’s eyes peeking back up at him.

“Now can I open my present?”

Keith laughed. What a stupid, wonderful man. Keith loved him.

It was as much encouragement Shiro needed to pull the boxer-briefs down and thrown to some corner of the room, leaving Keith entirely exposed. He paused for a moment just to look down, loving and hungry. The attention made Keith flush in embarrassment.

“Are you just going to look?”

“You’re perfect,” Shiro repeated once more. Then he finally sank down.

His lips parted to envelop the heat of Keith’s burning length. Keith’s own lips parted in a sigh and he arched his back up in response. He couldn’t contain the soft sounds of pleasure that escaped every time Shiro’s head bobbed, meticulous. His hands remained curved around Keith’s hips to hold him in place as his tongue leisurely slid up and down the length of Keith’s arousal. His velvet of his mouth contained Keith’s pleasure and thrummed with a pleased hum every time he elicit another needy sound.

Keith’s eyes fluttered closed, cloaking himself in darkness to simply feel every loving stroke and kiss Shiro gave him. He pressed the back of his palm against his mouth to contain his moans in a small gesture of modesty despite Shiro’s encouraging kiss on the head of his cock. He basked in the glow of pleasure.

A firm squeeze on his buttocks made his eyes shoot open again. When he looked down, Shiro was staring intently back at him with blown pupils. The thought of Shiro watching him like that as he sucked him off made Keith suddenly feel uncharacteristically shy and he twisted his head to the side. Shiro immediately captured his attention again with a lazy suck that hallowed his cheeks. The sound Keith made in response was nearly a cry.

Keith was so distracted by Shiro’s loving attention on his cock, he nearly jolted when a slick finger slid against the tight ring of his entrance. He hazily wondered when Shiro had found the time to reach across the bed to get lube, but all cognitive function immediately ceased the second Shiro’s finger finally pressed in. Keith cried out with a moan he no longer bothered to contain, as Shiro’s finger gently drove into him while his mouth still dutifully attended to his throbbing cock. The only thing keeping Keith from writhing off the bed entirely was the one hand Shiro kept against his hips, holding him in place.

His pace was leisurely and tortuous, making Keith’s breath catch and release in haggard gasps. Shiro always knew exactly what to do to make him feel pleasure enough to blank his mind and leave only stars in his vision. As much as he wanted to stay trapped between the loving ministrations of Shiro’s mouth and the delicious slow thrusts of Shiro’s now two fingers, Keith reached down with shaking hands to capture the sides of Shiro’s head. He pushed gently until Shiro’s lips freed his erection with an obscene pop. The older man looked up at him questioningly with a slight tilt of his head, fingers still sliding languidly sliding deep into Keith despite the interruption.

“W-Wait,” Keith managed to choke out, voice trembling. Shiro’s fingers curved the faintest amount inside of him to make him elicit a strangled moan. Pushing himself up with his elbows was pure torture. “ _Let me_.”

Shiro paused to look at him curiously, which was enough for Keith to push him back to reverse their positions. He shuddered violently and groaned wistfully at the loss of Shiro’s large, slick fingers. With Shiro’s head rest against the plush of their pillows, Keith straddled his waist with his legs quivering. Before he moved again, he helped tug Shiro’s shirt off to reveal the smooth canvas of his chest. He avoided the other man’s questioning gaze in favor of looking for the lube Shiro had abandoned on the corner of their bed. Wordlessly, he coated his own fingers generously with the slick substance.

“Keith?” Shiro’s eyes were wide with surprise and poorly contained lust.

Keith answered only by holding his gaze and squeezing his thighs. Eyes locked and steady on the other man’s, Keith reached back and pressed his fingers into himself.

The angle was a little difficult and his back curved almost uncomfortably, but the shocked, open-mouthed expression Shiro gave him made it worth everything. He stayed like that for a long, lazy count, slowly scissoring into himself while holding Shiro’s gaze steady. Shiro’s hands gripped his hips hard enough to bruise, and he held on desperately like his only anchor. His own neglected cock twitched with interest, still trapped beneath the frustrating confines of his pants. Keith used his free hand to clumsily unbutton Shiro’s pants, but when he swayed from the threat on his balance, he returned his palm to where it rest against Shiro’s hard abdomen, letting the other man deal with with the troublesome buttons. All the while, his own fingers still steadily dipped in and out of himself.

“I could come just from watching you,” Shiro admitted.

At that, Keith finally pulled his fingers from his slickened hole and positioned himself over Shiro’s freed cock. He took the thick member with his lube coated fingers and palm, sliding them purposefully up and down to spread more lube on Shiro’s twitching erection. They made eye contact, and Keith grinned. “You should come in me instead.”

He sank down on Shiro’s cock slowly, head tossed back and mouth open in a breathless moan. He felt pleased with himself when he heard Shiro’s mirrored moan and felt the grip on his hips turn urgent. Despite all his eagerness and how many times they did this, he had to go slowly. Shiro was big and the first feeling of being stretched and filled always made him see stars. When he finally seated himself to the hilt, Keith stopped to take a few shaky inhales. Shiro’s breathing was just as ragged as his own. Even though Shiro stilled patiently beneath him, Keith could feel his cock twitch eagerly inside him. He squeezed back in response, eliciting a choked sound from the other man.

Shiro looked incredible beneath him—flushed red and burning with passion. His small tuft of white hair had been swept back to expose the expanse of his forehead. Keith wanted to kiss it. Even when he said nothing, Keith could feel pure adoration radiating from him in every small touch, caress, and every soft look. He wished he could be like that.

Never breaking their connected gazes, Keith lifted his hips and slowly lowered them again, setting a languid starting pace. Shiro’s eyes disappeared behind his lids, seared shut in hopeless pleasure, and Keith drank in the sight. The pace remained slow and and tortuous at Keith’s discretion for a few more deep thrusts, before Shiro’s eyes opened again to a half-lidded state. His arms smoothly snuck under Keith’s legs to hook him by the knees. Holding the smaller man in suspension, he bucked up hard. Keith nearly screamed in pleasure.

He used his second hard thrust to slide his pants out from under him and kick them to the side, sighing at the silky feel of Keith’s supple skin against his own. Keith crumpled forward onto his chest, panting softly. Shiro pressed a kiss to his temple before snapping his hips up again.

They continued in that manner—slow, hard thrusts and sloppy kisses. Keith grew more and more pliant to Shiro’s touch, head bobbing with each movement. His eyes rolled with every thrust driving deliciously into him. He welcomed each one with a tight squeeze in response. Shiro’s hands folded behind his back and pulled his knees up to his chest, bouncing him easily with his strong arms. His gaze remained intense and fixed. When Keith’s eyes found his again, Shiro smiled fondly.

“I love you,” he said. Fearless, truthful, passionate.

The steady rhythm of Shiro’s thrusts had left him panting, but it was those words that left him completely breathless. Keith felt his brows knit upward, and Shiro beamed up at him with far more affection than he could even put to words. The intensity of his feelings was soul-crushing. Another deep thrust made Keith gasp.

Everything he had done was for this. He would fight armies over and over again for Shiro’s smile, and he would humiliate himself with the most disastrous Valentine’s Day date plans possible if just to make this man the slightest bit happy. He always knew he felt like this. He always knew how Shiro felt too; he was generous with his words and emotions. Keith had thought countless times he could express himself better, to really tell Shiro what was in his heart even through the struggle. _Valentine’s Day is a convenient time to try_.

“S-Shiro, wait,” Keith interrupted for the second time. He clamped his thighs down and squeezed tight, making both of them shudder at the depth the intrusion. Keith had to pause again, gasping for air to refill his deprived lungs. He stilled, Shiro’s cock still buried deep inside of him. Determined, he looked down to find Shiro’s eyes and held it. He took a deep breath to steel himself.

“I know I’m not good at expressing myself,” he began slowly, feeling heated tendrils of embarrassment begin to sneak up his neck. “I’m awkward, nothing goes according to plan, and I’m bad at all of this relationship stuff. I’m an emotional disaster. And I _know_ I never say it enough, but…” His heartbeat pounded in his ears.

“Shiro,” he breathed, voice low and quivering with emotion. “You’re everything to me. You’re my universe. I couldn’t live without you.” Overcome with heated embarrassment, Keith finally hid his face behind his palms to shield himself from Shiro’s shock-widened eyes. His final words came past his palms in a mumble. “I...I guess what I want to say is that I love you too.”

Silence fell for a moment between them, and Keith, fearless red paladin of Voltron, was afraid to uncover his face. Despite the stillness of their bodies, he felt a swell inside of him as Shiro’s twitched with the sudden rush of blood. Had Shiro just...gotten bigger? Keith flushed at the sensation of completely filled. His hands dropped immediately to stop his sway with the sudden growth. This time, Shiro was the one with an arm slung over his face, barely able to hide the brilliant scarlet that stained his cheeks. Alarmed, Keith gasped, “S-Shiro?!”

Shiro stayed hidden beneath the shield of his arm for a long moment before revealing his reddened face with a soft groan. Eyes still averted, he stammered in embarrassment, “Sorry, I— When you say things like that, I just—”

The moment suddenly felt funny to him, and Keith laughed. He had always thought he was the awkward one with emotions, but seeing Shiro trapped, flustered, beneath him made his heart a little lighter and filled him with a searing warmth.

“Keith.” Shiro’s hand reached up to curve gently around his cheek, soft and loving. The brilliance of his smile was enough to put the sun to shame. “I know. I’ve said it countless times and I’ll say it countless more times. No matter what anyone else says or thinks, to me, you’re perfect. Tonight, all of this, everything has been perfect because it’s with you. Plus,” he laughed a little, “I hate to break it to you, but you’re really obvious.”

Keith’s heart felt impossibly full. Shiro’s words, his laughter, his ever gentle touch connected directly to his heart, leaving imprints on is soul. You’re obvious, Shiro had said with a laugh, making Keith wonder. In the same way that he always knew the way Shiro felt, how even his mundane actions felt tender and knowing, maybe Shiro knew as well. All of his efforts (the massive struggle that had been this date) and even his daily actions (cooking and curling up against his side in bed at night) were _obvious_. At least to Shiro. And that was all Keith needed.

Strong arms raised up to wrap around his neck and beckon him down for a kiss, tender and sweet. Keith felt the molten lava of his emotions filling his insides like liquid gold Then suddenly, in the sharp contrast of their gentle kiss, Shiro surged up again to slam his impatient cock deep into the velvet of Keith’s warmth. This time, he quickened the pace to match the thundering of their heartbeats, relentless as he stroked the sweet spot inside that made Keith see flashes of light and comets streaking the universe. All of the emotion and sudden movement made Keith lose control of his voice, moaning Shiro’s name with every shaking breath.

He stayed crumpled against Shiro’s chest but moved his hips in desperation, hands clutching the tangled sheets beside Shiro’s head. Every thrust peeled a heated cry of pleasure out of him, pushing him closer to the edge. Shiro left gentle bites on his shoulder followed by soothing kisses, only intensifying Keith’s shuddering. One more particularly strong thrust made Keith cry in a strangled voice. Liquid warmth burst between their torsos, a tangible marker of Keith’s bliss. He squeezed relentlessly as his orgasm continued to flow out of him, dragging Shiro along with him. Keith’s name was on his lips as Shiro jerked through his last erratic thrusts, spilling everything inside of him as Keith so teasingly suggested before.

Their breathing was still shaky and uneven, and Keith laid limply in top of Shiro, drained but sated. His head was tucked under Shiro’s chin, riding the rising and falling wave of his chest. He stayed for a long moment, nuzzling contently into the hand that combed through his sweat dampened hair. As the afterglow faded to a dim, Keith moved to prop himself up on one elbow. Shiro began to move with him in attempt to slide out, but another sudden squeeze from Keith made him cease immediately, dropping his head back in blissful but intense overstimulation.

“How was our first date?” Keith asked with a faintly devious smirk.

Shiro groaned. “Keep looking at me like that and and I’ll take you into round two in ten minutes.”

Keith laughed again loudly, dropping back down on Shiro’s chest. Feeling Shiro’s arms slowly circle around him, Keith closed his eyes in contentment. Everything had been pure and utter chaos, a disaster, a mess that he had barely struggled out of with his sanity. But in the moment of its resolution, he finally felt like he could appreciate the stupid, sappy theme of the holiday. Love.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Shiro.”


End file.
